Prelude to a Storm
by chillinflute
Summary: Hiccup has been defending Berk from its many threats for a long time now, but after meeting a mysterious stranger who gives him a musical instrument which can supposedly save the island from a threat the riders alone cannot beat he, for once, has no idea what to do... This is a prologue to an upcoming story.
1. Meetings go Wrong

Hiccup was now really starting to regret this:

He'd come to the tavern to meet up with Astrid, apparently she wanted to tell him something (not that he'd asked what, firstly you learned with Astrid to follow orders first and ask questions later, secondly any excuse to talk to Astrid was fine by him!) and she seemed worried. He'd arrived at the pub early after his evening flight with Toothless, and had told him he could go fish in the river nearby if he was hungry. Toothless had wandered off to terrorise the local pond life and left Hiccup to it. He looked at the door to the tavern, the sign read in runes "The Two Horned Helmet" which was possibly the most redundant name ever considering that the only Viking helmet that didn't have two horns he knew of was his own flight helmet. The sound of a slow fiddle wafted through the window along with the sweet smell of mead, which always reminded Hiccup of his first sip of the stuff: he'd gagged and nearly thrown it back up again, along with his breakfast. He'd been young at the time; Vikings liked to introduce their kids to that age-old Viking tradition of getting utterly legless early in life, and mead was any good Viking's weapon of choice for the job, but regardless he'd felt more than a bit daft, and that smell and the memories it brought with it put him off trying alcohol again, just to be on the safe side. Hiccup decided to go in and get two chairs before the drunkards broke them all. He opened the door to the pub and walked in slowly. He edged past the Vikings slumped over their drinks; conscious and unconscious, plus the funny ones that were somewhere in between. He decided he might as well get something from the bar while he was there. He walked over and sat down at one of the stools to wait for the barman. After a minute or so he came round the corner to the back of the shop. He was, like most Vikings rather rotund, but he had rosy cheeks and wore a permanent smile. His dark brown beard and moustache carefully combed into position and secured, somewhat less appealingly, with fish oil that gave it a glossy look. It did however have the downside of making him smell somewhat of a wet trout.

"Why, hello there Hiccup! What're you here for then? Gonna try your hand at mead again after all?"

"Er, no thanks Sven, I'll be alright."

"Hehe, don't blame you kid; the stuff doesn't suit you you know. I'll never forget the face you pulled! Anyway, what'll you be wanting then?"

"Two cups of warm yak's milk thanks."

"Hehe, you old softy!" The barman smiled and walked over to the smallest barrel marked MILK and holding a cup below it turned the tap. "So then, what're you meeting with Astrid for then?"

"Huh?" Hiccup was surprised: no one knew about the meeting except him and Astrid. "How do you know?"

"Ahh, us barmen know these things you see."

Hiccup gave him a look.

"Oh come on laddy, I may not be the sharpest sword in the armoury but there only two people that ever walk in this pub and order yak's milk: you and Astrid, and I'm pretty sure you don't intend on drinking both of 'em." It was true; Astrid had a liking for the drink similar to Hiccup, she was quite gentle really past that steely bravado and habit to hit anything that moved, not that she'd tell that to anyone. "What time's she supposed to be here?"

"21:30"

"Oh, you've got some time then, I just looked at the time-dial outside. I'll hold the milk and warm it when she gets here."

"Oh, thanks Sven." but he was distracted; the fiddler's piece had been slowing and slowing and slowing all the time Hiccup had been there. He looked over at the fiddler, swaying gently, not with the music but with mead. Typical. Sven saw him looking.

"You play don't you Hiccup?"

"Huh?"

"The fiddle, you play it don't you?"

"Hmm, once. I gave up after a while; music is something a chief' son should listen to not play, it's 'not a Viking enough hobby.'"

"Neither was dragon riding and now it's the most popular sport on the island! I've seen your sketches; you're a true artist, you'd be a natural!"

Hiccup drummed his fingers on the counter, somewhat bemused there were Vikings on the island that knew what the word 'art' meant.

"Yeah kid, you oughta try it out" said a somewhat inebriated voice next to him, Hiccup started and turned to see the fiddler standing next to him, supporting his skinny frame against the counter. His clothes were raggedy and his wrinkled flesh hung of his bones like papyrus on drying stands, his well earned wealth spent on drink rather than his bodily welfare. One hand steadied him against the counter and the other held his violin, an ornate thing that you wouldn't associate with a man in this kind of physical state. He ordered a flagon of mead and sat next to the teenager. After a moment or two he turned to Hiccup, the alcohol-induced bleariness in his eyes gone in a blink. Hiccup was a little disturbed by this and tried to take a sudden interest in his (near nonexistent) fingernail but after an awkward pause glanced back at the musician: he was still staring at his in that exact same way, apparently not having moved an inch. Hiccup, somewhat unnerved by the drunk's persistent interest in him was about to try and break the silence but at that moment the fiddler gently laying down his instrument and bow and without looking up spoke.

"How much do you know about violins son?"

Somewhat curious at the strange question he replied truthfully "I know everything about how they work, which proportions produce the loudest or sweetest sounds and how to build one from scratch." It wasn't supposed to be a boast but Hiccup couldn't help feeling slightly pleased with himself about his ever-useful engineering skills; even after all these years, and after barely studying the instrument's properties during his musical learning period, he had calculated and memorised all of these facts. He couldn't help feeling a bit chuffed at himself.

The old man gave an aged smile, alcohol dried lips cracking under the jovial strain, "I mean about their soul."

Now thoroughly confused and starting to believe that the man had had more drink than he'd anticipated Hiccup was about to speak but the fiddler continued.

"Every instrument has a soul, in fact almost everything in this world has a soul of a description, but unlike living things like you and me their soul changes partly with the owner; a violin will sound completely different in the hands of one professional fiddler to another, not because of different technique or playing styles neccesarily but something _more_."

Hiccup now knew what the guy was getting at but still couldn't full understand, "Why are you asking me this?"

The old man smiled sadly and nodded "The same reason you just asked me that question rather than kicking me off the stool for thinking me utterly intoxicated Hiccup: you are no ordinary Viking."

"Yeah, I kinda noticed that I've always been a bit of a special snowflake by Viking standards"

The musician smirked "That's not quite what I meant. Hiccup, there is a reason you are the only Viking in history who ever thought to make peace with the dragons: you were chosen to do so. Now the gods have chosen you again."

Hiccup stood up, unnerved. He wasn't the only one.

Everyone in the bar was slowly lifting themselves up out of their seats, an air of unease blanketing the usually cheerful bar like a dark fog bank. It wasn't because of the conversation though; they couldn't have possibly heard the exchange, they were too drunk and far away for that, they were standing up because of the noise; an ominous rumbling far away in the distance, but getting closer and closer. Then: footsteps. Running. Thud thud thud thud thud. Then the pub door flew open as if Thor himself had decided to come for a drink, the old hinges rattled and threatened to break under the exertion of holding up the frame of the assailed entrance. In the opening she stood, blond bangs flying in her face and beads of sweat visibly trailing down her face. She panted, nigh on hyperventilated in the doorway, her eyes like a deer gazing down the blade of the hunter.

I had never seen her look so scared.

The stranger was the only one not standing, he swivelled his chair to face the front doorway, gazing outside into the distance. A small smile crept onto his frail lips. "So this is how it ends then. Well at least it will be quick."

Hiccup, baffled, stared into the straggly grey hair of the stranger and asked the obvious question: "What do you mean?"

That's when it happened.

The window to the right of the door exploded, glass shrapnel flying everywhere. Every viking in the room took cover under the chairs and tables except for Astrid, Hiccup, and the mysterious fiddler. Time defied itself and the earth turned slower and in the corner of his eye Hiccup observed the culprit: a single crossbow bolt, its barbed tip glinting in the candlelight as the deadly instrument barrel rolled. Time slowly began to remember itself and the bolt gained motion, accelerated, until it was just a hazy blur, the wooden colours of its shaft disappearing into the surroundings, as it continued on its flight of death. Then everything stopped, all noise ceased except the sound of a single grunt from the musician. The old man remained motionless awhile but then, slowly, like a tall tree being felled, he collapsed, limp, to the cold stone floor. A single crossbow bolt shaft protruding from a fresh wound in his chest, the deep red colour of death pulsating out of his body as if alive in perfect unison with the crippled heart the weapon had mercilessly pierced.

The sight of the event appeared to fiercely shake Astrid from her stupor. Her eyes set on me as if it were to me alone she was speaking, a fierce angry fire ablaze in a scared child's eyes. The most beautiful girl on Berk whispered the ugliest word that could have been possibly uttered at that moment, the single murmuring echoing around the room and seemingly over the whole island as every sound that had been present resumed. Above the cacophony of sound that one word became the loudest sound in the entire archipelago:

"Outcasts."


	2. Battle Plans

The pub burst into life. Vikings everywhere scrambled from their cover and darted to the far wall. Across this wall was a long weapons rack (there is a rule in Berk that for a building to even be classified as a structure it needs to contain at least 3 swords, two axes, and a mace. We Vikings have a reputation as warriors for a reason.) and grabbed all assortments of weapons: swords, spears, axes, bolas, morningstars, and every Viking made sure to grab a shield. They then stampeded as a single body of hairy, oversized Vikingness out through the trembling door frame into the clear night, now alive with the sounds of mortal combat. Astrid commando rolled into the bar (she was so hot when she did that!) and ran up to Hiccup, panic in her eyes.

"They've taken the armoury and the weapons in the other buildings like this are so old they're likely to break after one strike!" She was now seriously worried, Hiccup had never seen her look so concerned, even when facing the Flightmare. "There's something else too Hiccup-"

"We'll talk about it later, right now we need to help the village." Hiccup was thinking of his father, he'd be in the thick of the battle, Thornado at his side. "Get the others, we're gonna be needing the dragons."

"Some of the riderless ones are already in the fight. I need to find Stormfly and get her to safety; she's nowhere near battle ready in this state."

"What state?" Hiccup's eyebrow raised in curiosity and concern. Astrid giggled, she'd said before that it made him look 'cute'. _So_ not cool.

She shook her head dismissively "Later. I'll fetch the riders and their dragons. You..." She looked at him in that special way that always foreshadowed the same thing: "Be... Well..." She waved her arms in the air in front of him broadly.

Hiccup sighed deeply "You just gestured to all of me!"

"I know!", and with that the blond ran out of the tavern, her hair flying out behind her.

Hiccup sighed again before remembering the gravity of the situation as the sound of battle once again reached his dulled ears. With his prosthetic leg Hiccup had discovered that running was now a lot harder, but with practice he had mastered it and speed on the rickety cobbled Viking streets. After a minute or two he reached the plaza, one of the highest points in the village, and began to climb one of tall torch holders that illuminated the squared. After he had scrambled halfway up the long pole he took out his small, homemade telescope and looked down on the streets. The fighting was all raging towards the eastern side of the island where the armoury was. The entrance faced into the village and the Outcasts had, in doing so, made the defenders fight facing the low sun as they. fought in the doorway for possession of the stockpile of weapons. If the Outcasts took that, Hiccup released, Berk would be next to defenceless, and the Outcasts could just waltz calmly into the village centre.

"Hiccup! Thank Odin you're safe!" Hiccup looked down to see the grim face of his father, he was dressed in full armour with a sturdy shield strapped to his muscly left forearm and a sword gripped in his even right hand so tight the knuckles were white. A ruddy red stain lay across the edge of the double-bladed weapon, blood Hiccup knew was not his. "What do you see son?" The chief queried.

"They're trying to take the armoury; they've pushed the defenders into the entrance so they're fighting into the low sun. Those men can't hold them off for long like that. The Outcasts have planned this; Alvin's not with them so this is only designed to be a raid. If they take the weapons from the cache they'll leave us totally defenceless except for the dragons." Hiccups face assumed a shade of his father's severity "if we lose the armoury all hope is lost; the weapons in the other buildings like the pub are so old they will just be smashed if they hit proper armour like that of their main army."

"So you're thinking dragon strike then?"

Looking out through the telescope again Hiccup scoured the enemy ranks and the landing positions on the beach where the Outcast ships were moored. Just as he thought: "No anti-dragon weapons, meaning its a possibility. The problem however with that is that shooting could just start a fire and bring the armoury down on the defenders heads." He shuddered at the thought. "There has to be another way..." Hiccup trailed off, deep in thought.

"If only Thornado was still around, we need a dragon that can fight them without fire, and it would be stupid to ask them to fight tooth and claw." It was clear Stoick was still missing the Thunderdrum.

"Look Dad, I've told you it won't be long until we can bring him home." Stoick had freed the Thunderdrum so that it could father three orphaned juvenile Thunderdrums, but they were too much of a handful for Berk and would stay that way until they got their voices under control. It had been a couple of months and we were due to go back to Dragon island, where the four dragons had been left, to see if they were ready to come home.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in Hiccup's head; so simple he felt like kicking himself (with his good leg mind you, the metal might hurt a bit) for not thinking of it earlier.

"Dad, you, are, a, genius!" The teenager jumped from the pole and hit the ground, rolled, and ran up and hugged the giant Viking. Stoick was a little taken aback and just stood there like a statue, a look of utter surprise chiselled into his face.

"I- I am?" The great chief stuttered.

"Yeah, you are" Hiccup released his father and began to run out of the plaza, leaving his befuddled father to catch his son shout over his shoulder "...but don't get used to it!", chuckle, and head off to rally his regiment to face the foe.

* * *

><p>Astrid was running headlong through the woods. Her feet pounded against the stones and tree roots under her, her chest rose and fell with her breathing, every breath bringing the smell of smoke to her nostrils, and her muscles burned with fatigue. Every now and then her hand rose to irritably wipe away the sweat trickling into her eyes, stinging them with salt. After a while she reached one of the rickety rope bridges that joined one of the many chasms in the fragmented and scarred island. She looked cautiously at the fraying rope the connected the bridge to terra firma and then at the many missing planks in the bridge.<p>

There was no way she was running across _that_!

She slowly put her foot on and tested the wooden planks. It creaked ominously. She sighed, Vikings: they'll do anything to add a bit of danger into their lives! After putting some pressure on the plank she deemed it safe and did her best to hurry over the unstable bridge. As she went she again wondered about what she had seen...

* * *

><p>She and Stormfly had been flying south. The wind rushed past Astrid's ears, her lips dried and cracked from the brisk cold air in the higher altitudes. All around her was the sea: a vast expanse of navy blue stretching infinitely far in all directions, the waves catching the sunlight and making them sparkle, resulting in the whole scene looking like an endless wealth of deep blue sapphires. Above her the midday sun was partially obscured by an ever-present bank of clouds that seemed a permanent feature over the archipelago. The softened light dappled dragon and rider and they both breathed in the salty air and were content riding a warm air current and just existing in the calmness.<p>

"I didn't realise how nice it was this far south." mumbled Astrid, half to herself and half to Stormfly. "I wish Hiccup was here." Stormfly snorted amusedly "Actually, you're probably right," Astrid giggled "he would probably more interested in trying to find different dragon species!"

That's when she saw them. On the far horizon two muffled silhouettes broken the balance between sea and sky. They sat perfectly on the horizon, but as the pair flew closer they started drifting the bottom half of the celestial partition and the sea of gems they were floating above.

"Ships." Astrid muttered, squinting her eyes through the cold and the lower cloud levels they were flying through. "Let's go up Stormfly."

With that the pair lifted on an air vent up into the lower clouds, not wishing to attract unwanted attention as they cautiously began to investigate the ships, knowing only too well that not all Viking tribes were as diplomatic as her own.

* * *

><p>Her thought train broke after she reached the other side of the gorge, once again feeling solid ground under her feet. She ran on through another thick layer of forest until she reached a small clearing, one of her old stomping grounds. She used the place as one of her training grounds outside of dragon training during the Dragon War, and the tree bore the scars of where a double bladed axe had carved deep into them, the same double bladed axe that now was strapped to her back, partially concealed by her hair, ready for a melee at the slightest sign of danger. in the middle of the clearing lay her dragon, spines rattling in time with uneasy, shaky, irregular breaths. Her sky blue and violet scales glinting in the light dappling the entire clearing, like the stars themselves had decided to take a break from their nocturnal routine and come down to rest awhile in the shade of the trees. Astrid slowly walked over to her dragon and patted her on the side of the head. One lazy yellow eye opened and hazily looked over her as if only semiconscious. Those same eyes had once belonged to the dragon that had tried to kill her.<p>

How things have changed.

"I know you're tired Stormfly, but we need to get you somewhere safe." The dragon lifted her head wearily and slowly stretched out her spine from its coiled position before proceeded to shake the spikes adorning her whole body and looked sidelong at her rider, confused.

"Outcast raid. We need to shift." The dragon became instantly far more alert and though her whole body was still shaking from exhaustion she seemed to summon some energy from the fear those two words brought. Astrid jumped on her back and fastened herself to the saddle. She put her feet into the stirrups and her hands wrapped tightly around the front of the saddle.

"Lets head west, there are some caves in the cliffs on the shore there we can use." With that Stormfly flapped her wings and propelled herself towards the setting sun.


	3. Of Men and Dragons

p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"Toothless really hated Outcasts. The raping and pillaging was bad enough but you'd have thought they'd let a dragon have an evening snack in peace!/p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"He'd been hanging around the river and pond near the pub Hiccup had entered and had been carefully picking off some fish to give him back some energy after the night's flight. He'd been sat there with his eyes locked on his target, he felt the gas build up in his throat, heating to the point of plasmacizing in his fire duct and had been about to shoot the tiny blast at the fish when he heard the glass shatter. Glass shattering in a Viking pub was nothing new, by Valhalla: that was normal on a quiet night, but there was something wrong about this one; it didn't sound right. Toothless' hyper-sensitive hearing could tell the difference between a shattering flagon and a window as easy as human eyes could see the difference. Disturbed by the unexpected vandalism he sent out a quick sonar pulse and listened for the feedback. The streets were clear, the houses in check, but wait! What's wrong with that one? He went again and recognised the shape at the top of the house: a crouched man with a crossbow cocked ready to fire again.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"Sniper.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"Toothless responded instantly, he twisted his head and shot the plasma in his throat straight at the crouched figure. He'd expected to hear the impact, or at least the infamous banshee cry of a Night Fury's plasma blast but before he could identify either the world around him erupted into a world of noise that made him wince as his vision blurred under the aural strain. A great hairy mass of Vikings had just left the inn and were sprinting down the street to the east side of the village where Toothless could already see smoke rising into the skies like the tentacles of some strange sea-dragon. As he watched the bloodred skies the sounds of mortal combat began to reach his ears, the air turned acrid with smoke and a scream was cut too short.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"So much for peace on the island; this had to be Alvin's handiwork. So much for that alliance the two tribes had made. He turned his attention back to the downed sniper who'd been training his crosshairs on the pub. Who was he targeting? Then, like a bolt from the sky, it struck him. p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"Hiccup.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"Toothless was about to charge in to find his best friend when he saw Astrid sprinting out of the inn, followed soon after by his one-legged best friend, hobbling across the cobblestones with remarkable speed and dexterity for someone with his particular handicap. He was heading for the plaza and Toothless was tempted to follow but he realised that if there was a fight then he and the other dragons would be needed. Toothless went through where everyone would be: Meatlug would be with Fishlegs as usual, Astrid has probably gone to find Stormfly herself, which left Hookfang and Barf and Belch. Toothless remembered them mentioning something about fishing earlier so turned and headed down to the western shore.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; min-height: 13px;" p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"Astrid more stumbled rather than walked to her dragon; the day's events had taken the almost infinite energy store out of her, not so much through physical exertion, she was used to that, but more the mental exertion of processing what she had seen that was trying her body. Astrid was bright by anyone's standards (thereby, by Berk standards, this made her a genius second only to Hiccup and, debatably, Fishlegs, even if he does spend more time remembering dragon stats than most other things. Except going gooey eyed over Ruffnut, he did that a lot too). Having said this, what she had seen would give all three of their combined minds a migraine.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;""We're not alone anymore, are we?"p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"Her dragon raised her shaky head and shuddered. From exhaustion or fear Astrid didn't know but it unsettled her. Stormfly opened the other weary eye and shook herself. Or was it another shudder? p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;""The Outcasts are raiding the village, we need to get somewhere safe. You know the old ridges on the western cliff?"p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"She didn't need to say anymore. Stormfly heaved herself up and lowered her back, inviting Astrid to hop on. As Astrid buckled up the safety strap to her saddle she realised she was missing something; Stormfly would usually have leapt at the oppurtunity to help her friends in the village but instead she was just surrendering to taking a back seat and letting them get on with it alone. Looks like she's just as troubled as I am, she thought.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"With a couple of laboured wingbeats they were (just) airborne and heading for the western shore. She looked back towards Burk, at the fires that were popping up where they shouldn't and smoke blanketing the town like the winter snow that usually fell a few days after August.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;""Hiccup will be fine, won't he?"p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"Stormfly didn't respond, too busy flying to answer. The exertion must have been enormous, to the point where her eyes had gone to slits with the effort, visceral and written into every scale.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;""He'll be fine." she repeated, more to herself than the dragon, "he's got the sword with his shield now, and knows how to use it." Astrid had taught hiccup how to handle the weapon herself after all. Sure the blade and the pyrotechnics were all his idea but the idea for a sword and the newfound experience with how to use it was to her credit.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;""He never has used it though, has he? Not for anything other than his pretty light-shows." She added as an afterthought.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;""Do you think he would, if he had to?" she furrowed her brow in concern "you know…". She breathed and whispered the unthinkable words:p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;""…kill someone"p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"She knew the answer before it even left her mouth:p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"No.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"He wouldn't. No; he couldn't. At least not deliberately. For the same reason he didn't kill Toothless when he first shot him down in the forest: he was too godsdamn empathetic to do it.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"And truth be told, that's why she loved him. Sure he was witty and, actually (although she'd never say it to his face) quite good looking these days. But it was his never ending empathy for everyone and everything he came across that tugged at her heartstrings. He looked around him and where others saw a monster he saw beauty. Where people scorned a man for being a madman he'd see he was misunderstood. He'd barter reason from the unreasonable and beg forgiveness for the devil. All this because he looked into the eyes of a dragon and saw his own soul.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"Soon, they had skimmed over the cliff edge and circled down to its face. They chose one of the smaller caves nested into the wall and glided in. Astrid half jumped, half fell, from the saddle and stumbled the deepest part of the cave and collapsed, spent. It was cold and damp and she shivered, the sounds of battle still just audible even from the other side of the island. With every scream she muttered a little prayer under her breath.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;""Not Hiccup, Odin please don't let it be Hiccup."p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"A lonely, desperate tear rolled down her cheek. She hadn't even noticed Stormfly follow her but the next thing she knew the dragon had wrapped a wing around her and pulled her close to her breast. Astrid could hear the heartbeat, feel it through her scales; firm, living. p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;""Thankyou, Stormfly."p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"The dragon gave a tired purr. Astrid had learnt that this generally meant "You too".p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"A little softer: "Love you." she added.p  
>p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke-color: #000000; -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"Stormfly purred again.p 


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